Lights, Camera, Action!
by Kei Tree
Summary: Ch 13 FINISHED! Sarah, years later, is a movie star, a stressed out, romatically unlucky, movie star. And then she meets her newest costar and well, things just get better and better from there!
1. The Movie

AN: What, another fic? Aren't I trying to juggle enough? Yeah, I am, but I can't   
resist a good idea. Okay, okay, I can't resist any idea. This one won't be   
updated as constantly as Sacrifices but it'll be an odd fun fic to add to from   
time to time! =) And no, this isn't my first foray into Humor. It may seem that   
way but, yeah... Enjoy... Review... Have me committed... LOL  
  
All the usual disclaimers apply... As usual.  
  
  
  
****************************** Lights, Camera, Action! ****************************  
  
  
I've never really gotten into all that New Agey stuff like some movie stars. I dunno.   
I mean yeah for everyone who does... Herbs and crystals are pretty cool and all and   
magic.  
  
Well I've seen real magic.   
  
Let's just say when other people think of it as Faerie God Mothers and Sleeping Beauty   
I think of it more as, well... Tall, slender, arrogant, and a pain in the ass.  
  
Yup, that pretty much covers it.  
  
You see I've seen real magic, up close and personal. I've seen real magic and have had   
it bite me in the butt. So sue me if I'm biased. I used to be all dreamy, in love with   
fairy tales and imaginary Princes. I used to be captivated by the thought of Unicorns   
and Goblins.  
  
Take my word for it. I've met Goblins. They smell, look funny, and their King, their   
King is the before mentioned pain in the ass. I haven't met a Unicorn yet but I bet   
there's something wrong with them too. Maybe their horns double as a laser. Maybe they   
poop tarantulas. The world will never know.   
  
Or at least, hopefully if the world finds out, it keeps me out of the secret. Ignorance   
is bliss, unless your boyfriend is sleeping with your room mate and then it just sucks.   
College wasn't exactly a fun time for me.   
  
And who am I? Moi? Sarah Williams, nice to meet ya. Yeah, I know. Doesn't ring a bell.   
Let's try Sarah Elliott. There, that's better.   
  
Yes, I'm Sarah Elliott, THE Sarah Elliott. At twenty nine I'm a knock out and a   
millionaire a dozen times over. The biggest paid actress in Hollywood, the girl with   
the smile LARGER then Julia Roberts, yeah, eat your heart out. I've starred in over a   
dozen movies without a single bomb. Yeah, I'm just that good.   
  
I'm also stressed out, emotionally drained, and tired. I didn't start acting seriously   
until I was twenty four and out of college with a useless History BA. History may seem   
interesting to a select few but beware, before it sucks your future and parents' money   
away... it's a trap. No one can make a living off a History BA without wearing tweed   
sweaters and working in a library.  
  
I shudder to think about it. I hate tweed.  
  
Anyway, at twenty four I surprised the world by landing a spot that most actresses would   
kill for, the new Bond Girl. Okay, okay cheesy I know but I followed it up with a   
Spieldberg and that kind of convinced people that I meant business. Things just kind of   
exploded.  
  
Instant fame's not all its cracked up to be, its better. Hell yeah, lots better. At   
least at first. I was never a child actress so I never had to suffer through that   
inevitable dry spell that everyone goes through when they stop being cute and aren't quite   
drop dead gorgeous yet. Just a simple name change and viola, I was famous.   
  
I remember when things used to be so cool, so new to me. I think I even used to scare   
the stalkers. It was all such a novelty. I mean, me, little ol Sarah Williams with   
stalkers. Who would have thought?  
  
It was a bad year last year though. I made four movies, starred in, four movies. Two shot   
simultaneously. I came home one night and found my boyfriend and fellow actor of two years   
passed out in our bed with the woman who was currently playing my mother. He had   
apparently been taking tips on how to get dumped from my ex college boyfriend. Can we feel   
the sarcasm here?   
  
Things got a little ugly in the settlement. The charges against me were dropped but he got   
to keep our angelfish.   
  
The US court system is really screwed up. If a girl feels the need to hit her lying,   
scheming ex on the head with a frying pan it isn't anyone's damn business but her own. The   
judge didn't quite see it that way.  
  
Anyway I was perilously close to a nervous break down. My manager kindly found this   
wonderful cabin far away in the Rockies that I could spend a couple of months at, sort of   
like a retreat. Well, not really. I sweetly told Mike that I would fire his ass if I   
didn't get some down time and real rest. I think it was the frying pan that convinced him.   
He may never enter my kitchen again.   
  
I'm crushed. See the tears? Yup, that's more sarcasm.   
  
I've been hiding out here for about eight months now, about six months longer then I   
planned on. Its nice, relaxing, and I'm bored as hell. I just can't seem to get motivated   
to go back though and that bothers me. I love what I do.  
  
Anyway I haven't exactly gotten in touch with my spiritual side, or tried to contact the   
dead. I'd probably have to spend a few more months in the cabin before I attempt that one.   
I'm not real big on New Agey. Unless it involves a six foot tall masseuse named Robert   
who could bench press a Honda. That's right a Honda. I don't like my men too muscled.  
  
And go clean your filthy minds out. I'm just an admirer. Besides, I'm good friends with   
his wife Irene and Godmother of their adorable three year old daughter Jasmine. Jasmine   
has me wrapped around her little pinkie. And Irene could bench press a hell of a lot more   
then a Honda. I'm not sure how. She's about three inches and twenty pounds smaller then   
me. Think delicate and you'll get your nose broken but that's about the perfect word to   
describe her... besides the whole Wonder Woman thing.   
  
I pay Robert about as much as I make. He'd be filthy, stinking rich, okay, okay, even  
more so, if I spread the word out about him to a few of my movie star friends. He'd also   
stop working exclusively for me.  
  
No thank you. Okay, okay it might be a wee bit selfish but Robert likes only having to   
work weekends to make enough to feed a family of hungry elephants. It gives him time   
to finger paint with Jasmine and hell, who would want to pass that up? No sarcasm here.   
That little witch could probably be the youngest President based on her smile alone.   
It can melt hearts, and send the nearest authority figures running away, screaming like   
little girls, whenever she, that smile, and her beloved finger paints head towards the   
white walls of her room...  
  
It's a good thing Robert only works weekends. For the world, not just me, honest.  
  
My phone rings and, after hesitating for a moment or two, I rise from my balcony over   
looking the peaceful, uneventful mountains, and head inside the cabin. I cradle the   
cordless phone to my ear with one slim shoulder as I absently rifle through my almost bare   
fridge.   
  
Great... an orange, ketchup, and something, something that has evolved into its own   
intelligent civilization during its imprisonment in a tupperware container. Oh, and half   
a tuna fish sandwich. Of course, since I can't remember the last time I had tuna fish the   
sandwich probably isn't the greatest idea.  
  
So, orange it is.   
  
I try to concentrate on Mike, yes, who else would be calling me?, as I grab the fruit and   
start to peel it. "Sarah, are you paying attention? Have you heard a word I've just said?"  
  
"Humm?" I wince as Mike explodes in my ear, predictably.   
  
"Why the hell do I put up with you?" I shrug, unseen, as he ends his rant and pop an   
orange slice into my mouth, cursing as sticky juice dribbles down my chin. I've   
forgotten how messy these things can be.  
  
"Because I pay you more then anyone else is willing too. Because I enhance your career.   
Because you love bragging about your biggest client to your golfing buddies. Because..."  
  
"Shit Sarah, lay off. Leave a man some pride." I smile into the receiver.  
  
"Never." Mike sighs into my ear, theatrically, if dramatically over done. I should know,   
I'm the Drama Queen. All bow to me...  
  
"You really are a controlling bitch sometimes, you know that right? And stop smiling   
at me!" Mike knows me too well.   
  
"Okay, okay, I'm paying attention now, really, I am. Was this a social call of do we   
have business to discuss?" Mike snorts and its my turn to sigh. As if he's ever thinking   
of anything else but money. I swear, the man's going to be buried with his grubby little   
fingers clutching dirty dollar bills.  
  
"I have your next job sitting in my lap." Great, a new movie. I'm torn for a moment   
between throwing a fit or giving into curiosity. As always, curiosity wins. I'm in a funk,   
not dead, and only death could damper my curiosity.   
  
Meow.   
  
The orange pauses on its way to my mouth. "Okay Mike, let's hear the pitch, then we   
deal." He chuckles, mercenary, on the other line and the newest battle of wills between   
us begins. 


	2. The Costar

AN: Hey ya'll, just felt like putting a new chapter up! =) Enjoy.... REVIEW!!  
  
All standard disclaimers apply cause, well, the world would end if they didn't.  
  
  
  
******************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Two *********************  
  
  
"It's going to be great Sarah... I mean, I know you're not real big on fantasy films   
but the script is great. Originally it's a book but once the writers add a few Hollywood   
tweaks it'll be an instant box office smash... There's these goblins and this King and   
this girl, that's you of course..."   
  
Oh my God, fate, destiny, chance, cannot be this cruel to me, can they? I mean, is that   
really fair, ganging up three against one?   
  
"It's called the Labyrinth..."   
  
Apparently fate, destiny, and chance can beat the crap out of the puny mortals and no one   
gives a damn. Hip hip hooray for bullies. Maybe if I give them my lunch money they'll   
leave me alone.  
  
"And Sarah, before you even begin to say no, let me remind you that your contract with   
Cliched Films binds you to one more film and they're adamant, this is it."  
  
Fat chance. The orange is set, forgotten, on the counter as I concentrate very hard on   
making my manager, my agent, understand me.  
  
"No way. Hell will freeze over first Mike." Mike's harsh laughter fills the receiver.  
  
"Hell or your career Sarah. Give it a chance. They want this film and they want you in   
it. Fantasy films are tricky to advertise but with you in it doesn't matter. Geeks and   
jocks will be lining up outside to see you in all your glorious splendor.   
  
"Fight it and you can say goodbye to your fame faster then a boy soprano. You're hot   
because you're beautiful, vibrant, and have good credibility with the viewers. You don't   
bitch and complain and demand mints on your pillow and your own trailer. The minute you   
start whining that your contract isn't fair is the moment I start losing money on you.  
  
"Suck it up Sarah. Just say you'll do the film and be there on the set for the first day   
of filming in two weeks."   
  
I resist the urge to pick up a frying pan and take a swing at the phone, barely. Mike's   
right and I know it. I know that I'm stuck, trapped, out of options. And that royally   
pisses me off. My blooming career or my sanity?   
  
I beat the Labyrinth once and once, once was quite enough for this little movie star. No,   
really, I'd love to star in a Hollywood version of my own personal hell. Oh look, there's   
the flying pigs! Oink, oink!  
  
Shit, a Hollywood version of Labyrinth. I'll probably end up sleeping with the damn Goblin   
King this time around, maybe bear his pointy toothed brats and live happily ever after in a   
Gothic castle with a black picket fence. What genius producer thought this film would be   
great on the big screen? He or she has a date with my favorite frying pan.  
  
"I want final say over the script Mike, period, non negotiable."   
  
"You want final say?" The incredulity is painfully obvious but I am so NOT in the mood for   
Mike's inability to cope with MY moodiness.  
  
"Yeah, I'm the big star in the film. I want final say in what I have to do and say." As   
in I'm so not doing or saying three of Hollywood's three favorite words to their testerone   
hyped up version of the Goblin King. God, what kind of costumes would they come up with?   
  
"Mike, honey, you still there or do I officially get to fire you?" A growl comes from the   
receiver before my overjoyed manager spits out an answer.  
  
"Chill Sarah. Final say, it's a done deal."   
  
The tension in my shoulders leaves a bit, good thing, especially since Robert isn't due   
for another five days. "Fine. Just out of curiosity... who is set to play the Goblin   
King?" And I swear, if he says Josh Hartnett or Freddie Prince Jr. I'm not doing the damn   
movie and screw my career. I can only take so much perversion.   
  
"Jared King." I blink, blink again, and shake my head blankly at the anticipatory note in   
Mike's suddenly smug voice.  
  
"Mike, I have absolutely no idea who that is. You know that, right?"   
  
"Oh shit, I forgot Sarah. You haven't been around lately..." His voice screams 'fake   
apology'. Mike's not real thrilled with my whole commune with nature, retreat from the   
world thing. If I'm not in Hollywood he can't be selling me to Hollywood. He's been   
terribly disappointed in me.   
  
Wah wah, see my tears? I so care.   
  
"Mike, I'm getting bored." Another theatrical sigh and he finally answers me.  
  
"Jared King is the hot new thing in Hollywood. He's risen faster then you and you babe,   
you were a record. He's hot, sexy... All the women want him and all the men want to   
be him."  
  
"Cliché Mike dear."  
  
"Shut up Sarah. Trust me, he's perfect for the part." I snort.  
  
"Really Mike, just like I am?"  
  
"Sarah, one of these days it's going to be you running from a frying pan. I put up with   
more from you then anyone else, including my mother." Laughter bubbles up past my throat.  
  
"Mike, honey, hate to break this to you, but your mom is dead."   
  
Why am I not surprised when he hangs up on me? I think he has issues with strong women.  
  
****************************************************************************************  
  
Two weeks, several melt downs, and an unbreakable deal later I'm stepping out of my   
limousine and into the smoggy Hollywood air. The people at the studio know me well and   
camera men, hanger oners, the mass of busy people walking around with equipment and   
costumes in hand wave genially.   
  
I wave back.   
  
I may moan and bitch but Cliched Films has been good to me, to a point. I like the   
atmosphere, just not the bloody cheesy movies. I wouldn't mind doing some more work for   
them, I'd just prefer not to be bound to it. They know it, I know it, we have an   
understanding.   
  
Go us.   
  
Mike shuffles out and plays kiss up for awhile before we finally get down to business. I   
take my designer shades off as we enter the cool studio building where most of the movie   
is being filmed. Cliched Films opted for a mostly indoor shoot. They're planning on   
adding tons of digital effects. I wish them the best of luck. Nothing will ever be able   
to match the real Labyrinth.   
  
Thank God.   
  
People part like the Red Sea, fake plastic smiles on stretched faces. Yup, I'm home.   
Rah rah Hollywood, land of plastic surgery. Tony Gray, the director, steps forward with   
a very genuine smile. He's fortyish, in a boyish kind of way. His hair is graying but   
still full, face creased, weather worn, but handsome enough. He's dressed comfortably,   
nice jeans and a respectable sweater. A well loved ring graces his left hand.   
  
I already approve.  
  
He extends his hand and I take it. Its warm and dry, his hand shake firm but not   
overpowering. He makes good eye contact, and his are, appropriately enough, gray. He's   
just a person meeting another person, no posturing, no trepidation, just him. I've heard   
good things about Mr. Tony Gray and its nice to see them validated. I've worked with a   
couple of real ass holes in my time and aren't eager to repeat the experience.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gray," I say with my most sincere, hundred watt smile.   
The smile that wins me an award every time they catch it on screen. The smile I'd love   
to be able to bottle and sell, or at least flash, whenever I want, for exorbitant amounts   
of money. The smile I have to mean.   
  
"The pleasure is all mine and please, call me Tony." I can hardly believe it, but his   
smile matches mine. I'm so very rarely impressed these days. I'm usually not big on   
surprises but this is a nice one. "Come on Ms. Elliott, let me introduce you to your   
esteemed costar." I let Tony take my arm and guide me to the other side of the set. My   
curiosity is piqued... I've been so busy, resettling in my condo, letting Princess, my   
miniature Poodle, do not mock me!, let her know I still love her... ignoring the hungry   
media like the plague for once... I haven't even gotten a chance to research my costar,   
the Goblin King, the fabulous Jared King.   
  
Mr. Gray guides me to a man who's standing back to me, facing a table of food, absently   
picking at it. Even from the back I can tell that he's good looking, what can I say, it's   
a gift. He's dressed smartly in black slacks and a dark gray sweater that shows off broad   
shoulders. Blonde hair spills down the sweater's collar in an eerily familiar way that   
makes my stomach clench in a fist.   
  
My smile stays on my face with an act of will.   
  
Oh heaven and hell, I know they like to bully but cruel and unusual punishment doesn't   
seem much up fate, chance, and destiny's alley. My costar turns slowly and my world, my   
world crystallizes and slows, the better to stretch out the agonizing moment, of course.  
  
Hell, I hate being wrong. Apparently fate, destiny, and chance have a pretty great affinity   
for torture after all.   
  
Jareth smiles at me, you know, that smug, arrogant, King of the Underground smile. The smile   
that gets under my skin and makes me want to claw his eyes out. Yes, THAT smile.   
  
"Sarah Elliott, meet Jared King."   
  
Jared. King.   
  
"Oh subtle Jareth." Jareth's fantastic brows raise a fraction as he twirls an orange in one   
hand. An orange, great, he just HAS to ruin another fruit for me. And I really used to like   
oranges. Jareth bows gallantly and rises, intense eyes never leaving mine.   
  
"Ello Sarah, Elliott, is it?" I did mention I hate surprises right, especially when they're   
unpleasant. We're both kind of ignoring Mr. Tony Gray right now and Mike, Mike is lost   
somewhere last year in my consciousness. My own eyes narrow in not so polite distaste.   
  
"You really suck."   
  
  
  
  
AN2: Yeah... I don't know squat about the movie business so bear with any great oopsies on   
my part. =) 


	3. The Motive

AN: Hay everyone! How are ya'll doing out there in fanfiction land? hehe... Thanks for all   
the reviews... You guys crack me up with the usernames and comments... Oh, Brittany- sorry   
about the detention. If it makes you feel any better your review had me laughing too and, your   
comp teacher does have good taste in movies, scary thought... =)  
  
Disclaimer: *twiddles thumbs and coughs* Welcome to the disclaimer part of this fanfic. We   
are temporarily unavailable for creative comment so, please accept our condolences as we offer  
this: Standard Disclaimers apply.   
  
  
  
************************ Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Three **************************  
  
  
Mr. Gray clears his throat as we stand there like two arch enemies, glaring daggers at each   
other. Okay, okay I'm doing most of the glaring but Mr. Smugness has, well, this smug smile   
plastered across his pasty face. Has he ever heard of a tanning booth?   
  
Though I'm proud to say that if I really could glare daggers a certain Goblin King would be   
sliced, diced, and shish kabaobbed. And yes, I am aware that the last is not a real word. I   
am a creative genius. I'm allowed to add flourishes to the English language so nah, nah!  
  
"Do you two, ahem, know each other?" Tony Gray winces as both of us transfer our attentions   
to our director. Smart man.   
  
Jareth starts to speak but I beat him to the punch, so to speak. Not that punching him   
wouldn't be terribly satisfying on more then one level. Although for a really enjoyable   
experience I'd have to take one industrially made frying pan and just swing as hard as I   
could...  
  
"We met once, long ago. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience..."  
  
"For any involved."   
  
I huff at Jareth's smooth interjector. Excuse me, I'm the one who's supposed to be making   
veiled insults thank you very much! Young helpless girl, arrogant Goblin King, who's the   
scarred victim of tragedy here? Who has the better sob story? I thought so.   
  
"Of course Jared, is it now, went by a different name." Jareth cocks his head and studies me   
slowly, intense enough to make me blush.   
  
"Maybe I've grown up Mrs. Elliott; you certainly have."   
  
Ohh, scary, a sexual innuendo. I'm so afraid. Fairy Godmother save me, save me, the Goblin   
King is oozing arrogant, male dominated charm. You know, just once I want to meet a villain   
who supports girl power. Is feminism dead to creatures of darkness? Hello, the helpless   
victims in pig tails are people too damn it, we demand equality!  
  
"That's Miss Elliott thank you very much you spandex loving bastard."   
  
Jareth blinks lazily and leans over to whisper loudly in Mr. Gray's ear. "I think there's   
still some, hard, feelings between us. Perhaps being in this movie together will help us   
resolve our, differences."   
  
The married, laid back Tony Gray blushes scarlet as Jareth's heated gaze travels slowly back   
up to meet my pissed off eyes.  
  
Great. My director thinks that I slept with my costar. Slept with, dumped, and still want my   
costar. That's going to make shooting a real comfortable relaxed atmosphere. I am so going to   
kill Jareth.   
  
"Excuse us," I manage brightly through clenched teeth. Tony Gray steps hurriedly aside as I   
reach forward and grab Jareth's hand. I stop a moment, stunned, when I realize that the usually   
mittened kitten had left his gloves at home.   
  
The blush darkens.   
  
Hormones, you gotta love them. You can be pushing thirty and they'll still make you act like   
a bloody, foolish school girl. At least my mouth isn't hanging open like a dead fish. It's a   
good thing that the damned ball room didn't have flies in it because I swear I didn't manage to   
shut my trap that entire hallucination.   
  
My only defense for the way I acted so long ago was that I was drugged, pure and simple. It   
figures Jareth would have to drug a teenager to get any action.   
  
I'm able to get over my embarrassment after a moment to drag a still amused, smirking, vain,   
lazy, snobbish, infuriating, ahem, sorry (got carried away), Goblin King towards the dressing   
rooms. I try to ignore the curious and interested stares we are receiving.   
  
I can so see the tabloid headlines... Sarah Elliott Finds Mr. Right, The Actress and the   
Costar, etc. etc. until painful, humiliating oblivion. Goody, goody, someone pinch me.   
  
I'm gonna cry.   
  
I see the door with my name on it, finally, and wrench it open, pulling the silent Goblin King   
through the door way and slamming it shut and locked behind us. I barely register the vanity,   
clothes rack, sofas, TV, or various assorted furniture before whirling on the one man I   
wouldn't mind attending a funeral for.   
  
Yeah, I know he's immortal. The irony is not lost on me, dumb little actress that I am. And   
yes, my way of dealing with nasty surprises is to get angry. Real shocker huh?   
  
"What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
Jareth raises one tailored brow as he leans against my lighted, old fashioned vanity, muscled   
arms crossed over a lean chest that was actually covered by his charcoal gray sweater.   
  
You'd have to torture me before I'd admit that I kind of miss seeing him in his more revealing   
shirts. I've never said that Jareth didn't have a great body. I just don't particularly care   
for, well, everything else. And yes, I am leaving it at that.   
  
"Jareth," I say warningly as I take a menacing step closer to the still silent, mocking, Goblin   
King.  
  
"Temper, temper Sarah..." He waggles an admonishing finger in my vicinity. "I would have   
thought that you might have learned the value and inherent power of words foolishly spoken."   
  
I take another furious step closer. "Well, aren't you Mr. Teacher of the Year? Let me ask   
you again, what the hell are you doing here? Bored with the Underground? Tired of the lack   
of scenery in the Labyrinth? Or just looking for conversation more stimulating then that of   
inane goblin chatter?"   
  
Anger flares then blooms in Jareth's face and suddenly, the arrogant suave, totally collected   
Goblin King is gone and replaced with something infinitely more dangerous.   
  
I should really learn to rein in the sarcasm when dealing with magical, powerful beings. It'd   
be a hell of a lot better for my health. Kind of like eating bean sprouts, only less bean   
sprouty. Wow, two made up words in a day... point me towards Guinness.  
  
He straightens in a heart beat and grabs my arms, whirling me, us, so that I'm the one pushed   
against the vanity with him still holding my wrists in steel like grips. I'm not really   
scared, more, damn. Looking into Jareth's terrifying face I'm a little closer to petrified.   
  
Keep in mind I respond to threats and fear like I respond to unexpected, unwanted surprises.   
  
"You're a dead man."   
  
He leans close, until our brows are almost touching, and bends low enough to whisper, his own   
voice deadly, in my ear. "You want to know why I'm here?"   
  
Despite myself I still and let my stiff body relax the slightest. Jareth continues in that   
calm, frightening voice that is so different from his seductive throaty whisper that I   
remember so well, too well.  
  
"I'm here because you destroyed my world and I swore that I would do the same to you."   
  
He releases me and steps back in one swift motion. I'm trembling, and hate myself for it.   
  
I've become used to being hurt and scared since I've entered Hollywood. Its kinda part of the   
life... glitz, glamour, and unbelievable personal pain. You start to take it all in stride   
after awhile, or you don't last long.  
  
I'm in this jaded business for the long run and I have my own ways of dealing. The frying   
pans, the miniature poodle named Princess, the sarcasm, all my ways of coping. Not wonderful,   
perfect, or sure proof, but no one in white jackets have locked me away yet, at least not off   
screen.   
  
So I sit there and stare at the Goblin King for a minute. Sit there and think about the words   
that foreshadowed my downfall.   
  
And I get really, really, pissed off.   
  
Forgetting myself I stand and stalk from the vanity. I stop in front of the fuming Goblin   
King and put my hands on that well sculptured chest. He stares down at me, momentarily   
puzzled, before I push with all my might.  
  
Noble, proud, and handsome, he falls on his perfect butt with a spectacular crash that takes   
a stool and clothing rack with him. Jareth looks up in utter and complete shock from the   
pile of sequined dresses and feathered boas. I stand above him; my slender arms crossed like   
a shield across my own breast.  
  
"You know what you petty jerk, go take a flying leap and do yourself and the world a favor!"   
  
I turn my heel and stamp off.  
  
I am so hiring a body guard. Stalkers I can handle, Goblin Kings are another story, another   
class, of fear, all together.   
  
I ruined his world? Hah!   
  
He had the audacity to think that he could even attempt to ruin mine?  
  
Double hah!   
  
So why is there this thread of fear and disquiet running through me? I deal with the question   
like I deal with all other uncertainties in my life- I ignore it, for now. 


	4. The Decision

AN: Yes, a new chapter, produced under several death threats, including death by scorpion? LOL   
Glad you guys are enjoying the story. I'm going to be gone most this week, sad I know, so   
leave me some encouraging reviews for when I get back. Excess reviews will get you a chapter   
faster. Trust me. I was going to wait till next week to touch this story but was good and   
wrote this for ya'll... hint hint... hehe Though only one person has reviewed my new Mummy   
fic chapter... *sniffles* Guess Laby fans are more obsessive huh? Not that I'm complaining!  
  
  
Disclaimer: Go read another chapter for one. *rasberry*   
  
  
  
************************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Four *************************  
  
  
We didn't film any today, on my insistence. I don't care that I looked like some bitchy   
  
Hollywood starlet. Really. Normally, I would. But normal doesn't exactly include a Goblin   
  
King for a costar. So nah!  
  
Mike was less than pleased. Mr. Tony Gray was secretly relieved, I think. The whole near   
fist fight at our first meeting kind of unnerved him. Or maybe I just have an overactive   
imagination. He could have had a dozen plausible reasons for locking himself in his office   
after me and Jareth's little transaction in my dressing room.   
  
I still like Mr. Gray.  
  
Mike can go take a flying leap.  
  
So here I am, curled up on my obscenely expensive leather couch, watching reruns of Buffy the   
Vampire Slayer on my first Friday night back in giddy, gaudy Hollywood. Yes, I am aware of   
the patheticness that is my life.   
  
And what did Jareth do after I forcibly introduced him to a rack of costumes, glitter, and   
feather boas? Let's just say that it's a good thing Mr. Gray was still locked in his office.   
I didn't storm out to my loyal, waiting limousine until Jareth called me a sniveling sorry   
excuse for a heroine. Okay, okay there were a few more expletives involved in the actual name   
calling but I'm trying to keep this PG-13. Besides, I swear half of those things were   
anatomically impossible.   
  
Of course I've never heard of anyone with their head up their ass as far as he's managed so   
who knows what strange feats are possible for a disgustingly flexible Goblin King.   
  
Anyway, he called me a name, I threw a stapler at his head, he ducked... And so one and so   
on until I found the breath to heave a powdered donut, okay not as great as a stapler but I   
had already hurled everything else in the general vicinity including the camera guy's toupee,   
and then march out. He looked amazingly pissed but the image was slightly ruined by the white   
sugar covering his steaming face. It looked like he was an unfortunate victim of an exploding   
flour factory.   
  
I love being an actress. In a boring nine to five job antics like that would get me fired.   
If I was say an Accountant, Jareth could show up as my new coworker and I would have been   
forced to punch numbers with him for eight hours before I could drag him outside and throttle   
him. Its much more satisfying to whop him with something on the spot, trust me. And now I've   
probably fueled the gossip mills for the next several months all by my lonesome.   
  
I'm kinda an enigma to the papers. I love who I am. My weight, height, looks... I have   
great self esteem, have yet to break any major laws, say anything career breakingly stupid,   
and my love life isn't that much more screwed up then any of my coworkers.  
  
Okay, my lack of love life isn't much more screwed up. Its not that I'm not wanting to see   
anyone. Its more every time I start to date a really great guy I look at him one day and   
figure out he's a lying, cheating, scum loving bastard. Or I walk in on him with my roommate   
or coworker or there was that one guy who I found in the bathroom with the maid who was at   
least fifty years older than him.  
  
The last one gave me nightmares for a few weeks that had more to do with pure ick factor than   
any emotional scarring. Though I can never look at people over the age of sixty quite the same   
way...  
  
So anyway, the media has this thing for me. Its great for my career, which Mike loves, and I   
usually don't mind the extra scrutiny. Emphasis on the usually.  
  
I know they're all waiting for the crack in my armor, the chink, the proverbial Achilles heel.   
And I always thought they would never find it. I mean seriously, when is something from the   
Labyrinth going to come back to haunt me?   
  
Because the Labyrinth is... I don't know. If I wasn't famous I would go to a psychiatrist   
and figure out why something that happened so long ago still has such a hold on me. Why it   
takes up such a large chunk of my memory and thoughts.   
  
Not that I don't have a psychiatrist, all actors and actresses do. They're kind of like an   
expensive sports car. Everyone has one, even if you don't drive it. I go to my sessions once   
a week and me and Phil talk about the latest movies and books we've read. At the end of the   
hour he makes a few notes about my 'progress' on a few 'issues' like trust and commitment,   
blah, blah, etc. Occasionally he leaks some tidbits to the press. I'm happy, Phil's happy   
and a hell of a lot richer, and the reporters are satisfied for a few days.  
  
But I am famous and Phil would die if I actually tried to talk to him about something real.   
Something that really bothered me. And now Jareth's back in my life.  
  
Okay, technically he's back to ruin my life, arrogant jerk, but you get the picture...  
  
And even if all the bloodthirsty press prints are stories about me and Jareth's sordid past,   
gag me with a spork, its still makes me more vulnerable then I've ever been to the world and   
I hate that.  
  
I hate that and I hate him.  
  
Stupid Goblin King. Stupid overbearing, pompous little snot. I hope his electric shaver goes   
berserk and gives him a crew cut. He'd look awful in it. No, no I hope they decide the   
Goblin King needs lime green hair for the movie, and lipstick... lots of lip stick.   
  
Berry Bright or Sassy Orange.   
  
******************************************************************************************  
  
I push a certain arch nemesis out of my head and scramble out from underneath my collection of   
blankets. I stretch and smile at Princess who growls halfheartedly as I lift her out of my   
lap. The fuzzy toy poodle rolls the few necessary inches I require to stand and promptly goes   
back to sleep.   
  
I know exactly how she feels. Minus the whole furry thing that is.  
  
I walk across my plush carpeting in my apartment and reach to turn the tv off manually; I've   
lost a total of about twenty five remotes in the three years I've had this set. Movie star or   
no the company's stopped sending me new ones. Go figure.  
  
I guess fame only stretches so far.  
  
My finger slips though and Buffy flips over to Star Entertainment. I usually make it a point   
not to watch these kind of things, its just too weird to hear yourself talked about, but I   
pause as some primped, stereotypical blonde, proceeds to announce the next story.  
  
"Coming up next on Star Entertainment, an exclusive interview with up and coming star Jared   
King about his newest costar and old flame, Sarah Elliott."   
  
I stare in dumbfoundment as the screen switches to a clip from the upcoming interview showing   
Jareth, reclined, relaxed, talking intimately and animatedly with yet another blonde reporter.  
  
There's a dull roar in my ears that threatens to overwhelm me though a few of the words   
penetrate... "bed... amazing... ring... frying pan... law suite... grudge..." And right   
before the clip is cut, in the middle of Jareth telling an ecstatic reporter details about our   
non existent relationship that I wouldn't divulge to a close girl fiend, he looks up and   
stares directly into the camera, a little smirk curling his sensual lips.  
  
I turn the television off with a click that sounds loud in my deadly silent living room. Its   
one thing for the press to make crap up because of our little fight on the set. Its another   
thing entirely for Jareth to go on a nationally syndicated show and tell millions of people   
where each and every little freckle is on my body.  
  
Screw the bodyguard, I'm hiring a hit man.  
  
The Goblin King is going down. 


	5. Okay, Breathe

AN: Yes, this is an *incredibly* short chapter but I had this massive writer's block and this   
was the break through chapter... In other words... I see the light of creativity... *reaching,   
reaching, almost have it* CRASH! Man, I have got to watch those ceilings better...  
  
Yes I am making absolutely no sense. Raging fevers and the cold/ flu/ bug from hell will do   
that to you. You have my deepest sympathy for putting up with me. Leave a review for when I am   
more coherent and I will worship your pink bunny slippers. Not the green ones though. Not the   
green ones.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm just renting them, $4.50 an hour... Great rates on groups... *blinks* Man, I   
need sleep, and a therapist... Or bubble wrap, that's neat too...  
  
  
  
  
************************* Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Five ************************  
  
  
  
This morning was "interesting". You all will be proud to know that I didn't lose my temper, not   
once.   
  
Not when Mike grimly shoved the new National Enquirer in my lap when he and my limo picked me   
up at some ungodly hour morning people perkily call seven, complete with 'nude photographs'...   
Not when the press were out in twice their normal blood sucking numbers.   
  
I was very, very good.   
  
Although I may need someone to unwire my jaw.   
  
My teeth ache from clenching them for the last two hours.   
  
And I've yet to see the glorious lying bastard. So he's still alive. Don't worry, its an   
unfortunate condition I hope soon to remedy.   
  
I have a ready, fierce temper and I can quite honestly say that I have never been so furious in   
my entire life. This is hardly the first time that my personal life and secrets have been bared   
for all to see but somehow, that damned Goblin King has got me feeling more betrayed then any   
whore loving, cheating boyfriend ever did.  
  
You know, relationships aren't supposed to be stable, especially in Hollywood. But there's   
something about your arch nemesis... I don't know, something sacred. Its hard to find a grade   
A villain. Jareth used to rank up there with the best. Used to.  
  
Apparently somewhere along the way he changed into grade A ass-hole. And asses are a dime a   
dozen in this golden town. I'm not really sure if I'm more pissed off about his indiscreet   
comments, or the fact that he's not the tall, bleached, and dangerous Goblin King I thought he   
was.  
  
A girl's got to have her standards and Jareth doesn't meet mine any more.  
  
Dick.  
  
I have really got to watch my language. Karen would skin me, grown millionaire and all, if she   
knew I'd developed such a potty mouth.  
  
And now, here I am, sitting, very terribly alone, in my dressing room, trying to get up enough   
nerve to go out and face the world. And the cameras. Oh God, the cameras...  
  
Cameras recording every move, every nuance, every expression, every slip of breath.   
  
No, I'm not having a nervous breakdown thank you very much. Actresses of my caliber don't have   
nervous breakdowns. Well, at least not two in such a short time.   
  
Okay, I can do this. I will do this.  
  
I breathe out and steady myself against the vanity. By all accounts I should look like Hell but   
make up has already made its rounds today, complete with cucumber slices. Even in the unnatural   
lightning of the dressing room I look like some kind of porcelain doll, untouchable, beautiful   
in such a distant kind of way. I miss how I used to be sometimes... The day before the   
Labyrinth's endless night, when I came running home, drenched, vibrant, so real and earthy.   
  
I love Hollywood because it lets me pretend. Let's me play make believe.   
  
I really, really do.  
  
Okay, again...  
  
I'm a princess, yes a princess. We'll following the Labyrinth, not my own personal odyssey   
into insanity thank you very much. I am delicate and sweet and teary eyed. I am vulnerable and   
pretty and virginal and like unicorns... Unicorns and butterflies and everything that glitters   
and is some shade of pink and crap...  
  
I think I broke a nail.   
  
Okay, once more... Deep breaths Sarah, pull it together. Think of sugar and faeries that   
don't bite. Gossamer wings and magical balls in the arms of...  
  
*CENSORED THOUGHT*  
  
Okay, no ball rooms...   
  
*****************************************************************************************  
  
Mike knocks on my dressing room. "Sarah, you ready yet?" I expel a deeply held breath, plaster   
my most winning fake smile on, and flounce out, no more prepared than I was ten minutes before.   
But you know what, the world never seems ready for me. I guess this is just its way of getting   
pay back.  
  
Read or not... Its show time! 


	6. Boo! Surprise!

AN: Naughty reviewers... you're supposed to pester me so that I can't procrastinate and not   
write anything for some two odd weeks. LOL But thanks for the reviews I did get, they were all   
great and much appreciated and motivational.   
  
Oh and yes, blue bunny slippers are totally acceptable and   
chocolate/ anything sugar coated, works wonderfully for bribes. What can I say, I'm a greedy   
little fanfic writer. =) Till next time!  
  
-Its the Belated Easter Disclaimer Egg Hunt... go search out other fanfics for one...  
  
  
  
*************************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Six *************************  
  
  
"I won't! I didn't mean..." I fling a hand out from my breast, face anguished as I turn away   
from the resplendent Goblin King.   
  
Yes, resplendent.   
  
Wardrobe did a damn fine job, poop heads. No spandex, no tights, not a yard of bloody   
polyester. I can't even describe what he's wearing... It looks like some kind of fantastical   
silk creation. Like something an angel would wear if they had to confine themselves to mortal   
imaginations. Dashing and handsome and even more alluring than before... Yeah, this is a great   
situation, yesiree. Ahem, sarcasm at its best.   
  
"Thirteen hours Princess," Jareth calls out imperiously, familiar sneer on his chiseled   
features. "Thirteen hours in which to solve my Labyrinth. Thirteen hours to fail. Turn back   
now Lydia- no one has ever defeated me before and you, you won't be the first."  
  
I swallow and try to keep my features schooled as Jareth's suddenly furious gaze scalds me.   
Crap, crap, crap in a bucket. Me off balanced and dealing with a very on edge Goblin King is   
not a good combination. Chocolate and peanut butter, good... Peanut butter and jelly, good...   
Peanut butter and basically anything edible, good... Jareth and me working together, bad...   
Very, very bad. Puppy and yellow puddle on the floor bad.  
  
Peanut butter and Jareth...  
  
I fight the blush that tries to stain my cheeks red.   
  
Damn hormones.   
  
Line, line... I think desperately and manage, like I always do.  
  
"I can't, won't, leave my brother here! You don't understand..."   
  
Jareth swoops in for the kill as he stalks closer to me until he's there, a mass of warmth at   
my back. Movie set, cameras rolling or not, I shiver. A hand reaches up and gently toys with   
one fashioned curl as the other dares to rest on my flushed shoulder.   
  
Hormones and Goblin King, spectacularly bad... Puppy and yellow puddle on the bed bad. He   
leans down until his full lips move softly by my ear, the lines loud enough to be heard and   
recorded while still at a husky whisper.   
  
"What a pity."  
  
Ass hole. I hope Santa gives him lumps of coal. Hell, I hope Jolly old Saint Nick hands him   
the deed to a coal mine. Jareth draws away after the appropriate dramatic moment.  
  
"I gave you a chance Princess, a chance at saving yourself." Jareth beams maliciously as he   
turns and waves at the grand 'window' built into the 'castle room'. Later special effects will   
add in all the expected touches, complete with panoramic view of a particularly majestic,   
darkly forbidding Labyrinth. I've seen the sketches. If Jareth's Labyrinth had looked like   
that Toby would have been happily left as a Goblin.   
  
"Now this is your future." The Goblin King's voice raises as it booms and fills the room, half   
way frightening me with its strength, its vitality, its sureness, alone. Jareth would have   
made a great phone sex operator. He's the only man I know who could probably pull off purring.   
Not that I would ask, but, you know... Its one of those questions you can't help but thinking.  
  
"Your prison and your home. For, when I defeat you Princess, not just your brother will belong   
to me. You'll be mine in body, heart, and soul..."   
  
I stare at Jareth, wide eyed and a little too drawn into the dialogue between us. I know the   
lines, know them by heart, but it's just too damn eerie standing here, having this almost   
conversation. Me in my ornate, green, velvet Renaissance dress and tiara. Jareth, his wild   
hair tied back to accent the sharp lines of his face, pale but so damn alive in his white   
costume.  
  
His strange, strange eyes trap me for a moment, hold me spell bound and strangely immobile   
before him.  
  
"Cut!"   
  
*****************************************************************************************  
  
We flinch together, star and costar, actor and actress, Goblin King and victorious girl, both   
grown bitter and angry with the years that have passed. "Bastard," I spit as I reach up and   
slap him across his smug, frightening face, sudden anger grounding me in reality, or as close as   
my life gets to it.   
  
Jareth recovers quickly as he snatches the offending wrist in a grasp of iron, fair brows   
raised. "Was there a reason for that little display?"   
  
Feeling like some kind of child with her proverbial hand in the metaphorical cookie jar, I   
fight a flush that has nothing to do with how long its been since I had sex and everything to do   
with the mildly reproachful and disapproving glare leveled at me with unbelievable intensity.  
  
I've never reacted well in said situations, or coherently. I splutter, stutter, the whole   
enchilada of the babbling family.  
  
"You... you shouldn't have been acting so, umm real, well." The wintry brows raise a fraction   
higher in askance and I find myself wondering if he would look so damn intimidating if someone   
would say, sneak in and shave those arching, menacing eyebrows off.   
  
I mean who can be scary with no eyebrows? Another one of those unanswerable, wishful thinking   
things that I am so fond of I know. Even if he didn't look scary anymore woe to the man or   
woman who shaves the Goblin King's eyebrows. The Bog of Eternal Stench would be like spa   
treatment I'm sure.   
  
"And...  
  
"And..." I search desperately for a real reason for my physical assault. I don't think   
'because I don't like your face' is an acceptable response in any instance so I scramble   
frantically before pulling on familiar dregs of self righteousness.  
  
I yank my wrist from his grip and glare, collecting my tall frame so that I only have to tilt my   
head back a bit to meet Jareth's mocking gaze. "Oh yes, let's see why I might be miffed at   
you, the all mighty Jared King...  
  
"Wait, wait, it's coming to me..." Melodramatically I press a hand to my forehead and fake   
concentrating. "Oh, right... A certain fictional interview with Star Entertainment concerning   
the fact of whether or not I have a bikini wax and if there's any baby fat on the parts of my   
body usually covered with clothes. I can't imagine why a stranger going on national TV and   
telling personal lies about me without my knowledge might be upsetting..."   
  
I whirl to go, content with the flair of my exit, which is promptly ruined when Jareth grabs my   
arm. The god be damned smile still lingers but there's a darkness, a grimness that relates   
itself to me. I shiver under the heat of his hand.   
  
"Right or wrong, angry or not, I'm not a stranger and I never will be, not to you."   
  
Uncertain, I swallow and nod ever so slightly. I wonder if it makes me weak when I want to cry   
as soon as Jareth releases me.   
  
Determined to salvage my exit I whirl once again and flounce off the set. Yes, flounce. Not   
prance, not sulk, not run or scurry, flounce. There's a knack to it. Some people can strut   
but, well, my humble talents lie in the flounce.   
  
Mr. Gray, Mike, camera men and crew and aides and assistants, all who have watched the entirety   
of the exchange between myself, Sarah "Elliott" and him, "Jared" King, stare. Halfway to my   
dressing room I give in to my childish impulses.   
  
I turn and screw my face into a contorted mask.   
  
"Boo!"  
  
Does it make me petty to take pleasure in the fact that half of the busy bodies jump ten feet?   
  
Nah...   
  
*************************************************************************************  
  
Flinging open the door to my dressing room I sigh and move to turn on the light. Only, its   
already on and occupied.  
  
Its my turn to stare as I gape, dumbfounded, at my ex boyfriend who is lounging, yes lounging,   
on my sofa.   
  
"Hello Sarah dear," Lance half coos as he rises and approaches me, bright smile plastered across   
his plastic and touched up face.  
  
I growl and throw my hands up in the air.   
  
Hollywood is going to hell in a hand basket and I'm invited along for the ride. Goody, goody.   
I just love vacations.   
  
I miss the damn cabin already. 


	7. Bad Boys

AN: This is the fic that doesn't end... Not really... Actually, I have no idea how long this   
is going to be, or where it is going. But then, I never do. Many thanks for all the wonderful   
bribes- I love my reviewers. hehe I must go and worship the bunny slippers now. Hope everyone   
is having a good week. Mine was absolutely awful and well, we'll leave it at that. ;( Till   
next time...  
  
Standard disclaimers apply. *rasberry*  
  
  
  
************************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Seven **************************  
  
  
"What in the hell are you doing here? You know a restraining order can go both ways, don't   
you?"   
  
Lance smiles beatifically and tries to take my hands in his. He's lucky I don't have my   
favorite frying pan in the dressing room or he'd be grasping for those elusive little flying   
birdies. "Sarah, don't be like that. You know how much you mean to me."   
  
I cross my arms across my breast and feel the anger build. I just love angry confrontations   
with cheating ex boyfriends. Gets my blood all riled up. Fun, fun, fun. "I mean about as   
much as some two bit slut I was costarring with, remember. Or maybe you don't, I doubt she was   
the only one."  
  
"Sarah, Sarah, you wound me."   
  
"Not deeply enough, you're still here."   
  
For a heartbeat his angel blue eyes darken with anger and his own "special" brand of rage. I   
don't feel an ounce of pity, not an ounce. This lying, sleazy bastard broke my tender wittle   
heart and God help me if I want to wring his neck for it. Whoever said revenge is a dish best   
served cold has never had the 'pleasure' of finding your slimy boyfriend in bed with another   
and voicing your feelings that very moment. Of course, creatively speaking, 'voicing' may   
include a little bit of violence. Its an artistic outlet damn it!  
  
Temporary insanity got me off without jail time. I'm a lucky gal all right. Mmm, mmm...   
sarcasm supreme.   
  
"Lance," I repeat, voice tired, weary, "why are you here? Really? I'm not one of your adoring   
fans, cut the crap."   
  
His angelic blue eyes that can lie so easily, they try to grip mine, try to draw me close, so   
close that I won't be able to see his deception, to see him for the slime he truly is. He   
rises, damn him, and I don't back away. Can't... because that would be retreating and Sarah   
Williams, Sarah Elliott, whoever I am, refuses to let myself back down from anything, not a   
cheating boyfriend or an asinine Goblin King.   
  
And damn that little broken lonely part of me that doesn't want to back away because I want to   
believe the lies he so casually offers so badly, so bloody badly. I want the hole in my heart   
filled... I want the ache to go away. I'm so freaking sick of being lonely, of being alone.   
Of standing in front of an awe filled world where no one worth loving is willing to take the   
shadowed pedestal by my side. I'm tired of being strong.  
  
Even, after a six month vacation, I'm just plain tired.   
  
He takes a timid step closer and reaches up to eagerly brush the planes of my face with cold,   
cold hands. "You use to be one of my biggest fans."   
  
I shudder and curse myself for being a fool and an idiot before pushing him away. "No Lance.   
I'm not doing this, not with anyone, especially not with YOU." The last 'you' drips with all   
the scorn and contempt I truly feel and Lance straightens until he towers over me. He can be   
intimidating in his six three frame, when he wants to be. Normally he's all for fostering the   
cuddly teddy bear image with his baby blues and softly curling light brown hair.   
  
Right now he's leaning more towards pissed off teddy bear. Pissed off teddy bear who could   
break me in two- and he looks like he's about to try the idea out.   
  
Me, scared? Umm, no? Did that not sound convincing to anyone else but me? Me and my stupid   
rhetorical questions.  
  
"Is there a problem here?"   
  
Me and Lance whip around together to look in pure astonishment at the deeply shadowed figure in   
the doorway, though our shock stems from two entirely different mountain streams... Hell, we're   
not even from the run off of the same blasted mountain.   
  
Lance is most likely blown away that another ex who obviously bears ill feelings to me is   
willing to stick his aristocratic nose where it doesn't belong. Me, on the other hand, I'm   
simply flabbergasted. First he turns into an ass hole and now a knight in slightly tarnished   
armor?   
  
What demon of hell would have ever taken the bet that mighty Goblin King would one day aid his   
hated nemesis Sarah Williams?   
  
"This is none of your business Mr. King." The last was sneered on Lance's part and I fight back   
a pleased grin as Jareth stands to his full height, suddenly practicing some towering of his   
own. If towering was an Olympic event Jareth would so snatch the gold from under Lance's   
previously smug nose.   
  
I always knew that Lance Johnsen was a yellow bellied coward at the core of his rotten heart...   
I mean sure he likes to manipulate women, lie, and fling rocks at small children while puling   
puppy dogs' tails but pit him against an irate Goblin King and every trace of anything other   
than submission and fear vanish.   
  
Lance is practically withering under the heat of Jareth's mute, reproachful glare. I can almost   
see the wrinkles forming... 'I'm melting, I'm melting. Oh help me, I'm melting!'   
  
"Its my business if I choose it to be Mr. Johnsen." I start as Lance's last name rolls easily,   
if distastefully, off of Jareth's tongue. I didn't know he knew who Lance was. I meet Jareth's   
glance for a brief moment and am confused by what I find there... emotions, tangled, woven,   
overshadowed and hidden. Whoever said that eyes are the window to the soul has obviously never   
looked closely. Or has never met someone as screwed up as Jareth.   
  
Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here? Oh yes, another rhetorical   
question, forgive me.  
  
But Lance is nothing if not stupid. It took him long enough for me to think through the above   
before gaining some amount of righteous anger and belligerence. He clenches his fists as he   
tries to stare down the disguised Goblin King.   
  
Bad boy, bad Lance!  
  
"Why the hell are you defending her?" I perk my ears for Jareth's answer. "Why the hell do you   
care about Sarah Elliott? I saw the interview Mr. King. I know Sarah better than she wants me   
to think. Your betrayal cut worst than mine ever could. I may have slept around but I never   
went to the media. I was a scum bag but I never told Sarah's little secrets to the world."   
  
I feel the burn of shame at the truth in Lance's words... And then a flush of unreasonable   
anger. Jareth has eyes only for me. "Because Mr. Johnsen, if anyone is going to hurt her, its   
going to be me." There's triumph in their strange pale depths, triumph and a kind of terrible   
sadness. I think I liked it better when I couldn't tell what he was feeling.   
  
Its my turn to straighten, to pull myself together, to draw on the small reserves of strength   
that I have left. I lift my chin, defiance clear, and speak. "Both of you can go take a long   
walk off a short pier and leave me alone. Out!" I point at the door, meaning about as clear   
as I could make it. I mean, if we were playing charades my team would so be kicking ass.   
  
Lance glares at me for half a second before turning and striding out of my dressing room.  
  
Leaving me and Jareth alone.  
  
I think I preferred the proverbial male pissing contest. Testosterone is almost always easier   
for me to handle than awkward, confusing, emotional crap. Maybe it was my mother leaving me...   
Maybe it was Karen's own prim and proper attitude or my dad's oblivious blitheness but I never   
learned how to deal with the touchy feeley stuff. A pat on the back, a quick hug, that I   
understand. Anything more complicated than that has me seeing stars.  
  
I start to order Jareth out but once glance at his face convinces me he's not doing anything   
that he doesn't want to. Maybe another time I'd argue till I was blue in the face but that   
damned tiredness is weighing me down like invisible chains.   
  
Instead I ignore him. He's like a little kid, ignore him long enough and he'll get bored and   
go away. That's the theory anyway.   
  
I slid down into the plush sofa vacated by Lance, knees drawn to my chin. I feel vulnerable,   
damn it, and know I look it too. There's a nearly unbreakable silence between us for what   
seems like hours, though I think some of that may have simply been my imagination.  
  
I hear Jareth's soft steps and his still costumed, fantastic boots come into my downcast view   
as he stands like some kind of unacknowledged shadow beside me. When he finally chooses to   
break the silence I jump as his velvety voice, rich and darker than before, though less   
frightening in its intensity, flows across my skin like a caress.  
  
I've been reading too many damn romance novels. Its what you do when you don't have a real   
love life.   
  
"How can someone with nearly everything be so miserable?"   
  
I look up at that, surprised at the question, and raise dark brows. "Funny Jareth," I reply   
softly, "I was just about to ask you the very same thing."   
  
The harshness around his regal face softens as he stares unabashed at me, gaze, as always, too   
intimate for comfort, and just as unreadable as before. "Touché Sarah."   
  
And who says me and the Goblin King can't carry on a civilized conversation? 


	8. Fire- Ice

AN: Hay guys, sorry for such a long wait! I'm about to graduate so I've been super busy trying   
to get last minute things together. Thanks for being so patient and for all the wonderful,   
supportive reviews! Have fun with this chapter... LOL  
  
See another chapter for a coherent, okay, okay, a disclaimer... =)  
  
  
  
************************* Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Eight ***********************   
  
  
"Why on earth did you ever let that filthy cur touch you?"   
  
Oh this is going to be real fun...   
  
I raise my chin, defiant to the bitter end, and answer, voice some horrid mixture of pain and   
hurt and anger. "Because no one else would."   
  
His brows arch and knit together over his brow as his peculiar eyes rake over me. Its as   
uncomfortable as hell but then, Jareth's not exactly the soft and cuddly type. He's more the   
sharp angles and pain in the ass type, remember?  
  
"I've seen this world, Aboveground, Sarah... Millions worship you. They revere and adore you.   
You're telling me that out of the entire world population that Lance Johnsen is the cream of   
the crop?"  
  
Okay, maybe scathing anger isn't the best approach but its worked for me so long that I usually   
don't bother to reach for anything else. Eyes flaming, I answer.  
  
"They revere and adore an image... something beautiful and intangible and manufactured. People   
want what they can never have. None of them know me, know who I am or who I want to be.   
  
"And that's cool. I knew what I was getting into when I choose this profession. I'm not a   
fool Jareth, despite what you may think. But it does severely limit the people I can truly   
associate with. I love what I do with all my heart even if I am almost entirely limited to my   
own kind, and, in case you haven't noticed, most actors and people in the movie business don't   
win morality awards.   
  
"That sucks but its life and life ISN'T FAIR!"  
  
Oh original, throwing his own words back at him. I bet no one's never done THAT before.   
Points to me for my creativity. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Life seems to screw me over   
anyway.  
  
'Look daddy, look, I won the spelling bee!'   
  
'Oh, that's nice baby but your mother left us.'  
  
'Look daddy, look, I got an A on my math test!'  
  
'Oh sweetie, meet your new stepmother.'  
  
Stupid life. I bet its in league with fate, destiny, and chance. Look, Sarah Williams is   
down, let's kick her some more!  
  
His gaze, some kind of smoky smoldering thing that warms as it chills, Jareth sinks down next to   
me on the couch. His thigh, entirely warmth, brushes along the side of my lower body.  
  
Hello, can we say personal space?   
  
Not that it isn't a very pleasant warmth. Only, you know, Jareth, thigh, sexual tension, me.   
Space good. Little green men and the Milky Way good. Especially because you don't really get   
"warmth" with Jareth. You get arctic blast and sun stroke heat. And believe me, there's not a   
whole lot of in between, at least not with us.   
  
"You're making this harder than it was supposed to be," he finally says into the uneasy silence   
that had befallen us.   
  
Grumpy at my outburst now, I quip back. "Mind telling me what the hell you're talking about?"   
  
Jareth sighs and runs a hand through his long, feathery hair. God, I'd pay money for my hair   
to look that soft. I wonder what kind of conditioner he uses... Maybe Pantene Pro V? Perhaps   
some kind of special prescription, like Goblin guts, or Faerie dust... Oh well, they world will   
probably never know.   
  
"I came back to destroy you. I wanted to deprive you of happiness, to make you taste the   
bitterness of absolute defeat. I wanted to see desperation in your eyes. I wanted you to beg   
me for mercy."  
  
I raise dark brows. "Well that's cheery."   
  
I jump at Jareth's hollow chuckle. "But then I got here and, nothing ever goes to plan with you   
Sarah Williams."  
  
A sardonic curve curls my lips. "The best laid plans of mice and men..."  
  
"Sarah, do shut up!"   
  
I shut up and bite my lip to keep it that way. Irate Goblin King I can handle. Arrogant,   
overconfident, any of the above I'm perfectly fine with. Pissed off Goblin King gets a little   
tricky and well, mad Goblin King is sorta like an F5 tornado. You don't reason with it, you   
just get the hell out of its way, unless you're armed with a trusty frying pan. Then you're   
ready to do battle against the Forces of Darkness, cheating boyfriends, and the occasional press   
member who manages to exhaust my near endless reserves of patience. I don't care how attention   
starved I may appear... Anyone who takes pictures of me before my coffee gets a panful.   
  
"I wanted you to suffer so much. And now I'm here and what do I do when you're unhappy? I   
defend you! I comfort you! I'm sitting here carrying on a bizarre but perfectly civilized   
conversation.   
  
"You're all weepy eyed and sad and vulnerable and..." Jareth waves frustrated hands in front of   
my face to emphasize his point, "and feminine!"   
  
I blink.  
  
"My blood runs hot looking at you even when I'm thinking of a thousand ways to torture you!"  
  
Oh swoon, that last line should be a Hallmark card. Is anyone else getting creeped out here?  
  
Jareth leans forward suddenly, grasping my startled face with ungloved hands that burn like   
scalding irons. I swallow and stare quizzically at him.   
  
The blood leaves my face in a rush as I pale and screw my eyes shut, tightly, tightly, shut.  
  
Shit, shit, shit in a bucket. He's freaking serious.  
  
The Goblin King thinks I'd be a beautiful prom queen, or at least a top notch stripper.   
  
I mean, sure he's supposed to pretend like everyone with two X-chromosomes is attractive and   
sexy. He's a professional flirt. The job description for Goblin King is something like 'super   
hunky shameless villain'. The Goblin King is not supposed to really want, I mean REALLY want,   
anyone.   
  
Especially me. Little old me. Little knock out me. Damn me for being beautiful!   
  
And then everything enters the magic of the Twilight Zone.   
  
My eyes snap open as Jareth leans down and does the unthinkable. His lips, his sensual,   
inviting lips, invite mine to tango and they, being the traitors they are, eagerly agree.   
  
So yeah, I'm sitting here, kissing the Goblin King.   
  
Damn.   
  
I bet life, fate, chance and destiny are laughing it up right about now. Ow, stop kicking me!   
I mean it- I'll sue- I swear! 


	9. Enemies Again?

AN: Finally, an update! A small one, but I really felt this was a good place to end the   
chapter. I don't think this story over all is going to be too much longer, but then, I don't   
know where its going so... *shrugs* I've been sad because most my favorite shows are getting   
cancelled... Roswell, Ally McBeal, Dark Angel... My favorite character on Stargate SG-1 has   
left and Buffy and Spike are never going to have a relationship that's not totally twisted!   
Sorry, had to rant at the unfairness of it all. Stupid TV executives... stupid writers...   
Okay, better... =) Leave me an update, say hello, I love hearing from you guys!  
  
  
  
  
************************ Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Nine ***********************  
  
  
Then reality comes crashing in with all its terrible glory.  
  
Jareth pulls back like I bit him or haven't been using enough breath mints, strange gaze wide   
with shock. Oh yeah, he's shocked. I bet.  
  
Men are such wussies.  
  
Wah, wah, my hormones are raging! Like women don't have hormones. We just have more control   
thank you very much. And a higher pain tolerance. So we can bear children and all that fun   
stuff. Not that bearing children is real high on my priority list right now. I've never   
wished another one away after Toby but I'm also not real fond of anything not old enough to   
drive yet either.   
  
I give to charities. That should count for something when I get to the pearly white gates,   
even if I don't have much of a motherly instinct. I just don't understand the fascination with   
pushing something the size of a grapefruit out of a hole the size of an orange.  
  
It's the whole square peg, round hole issue. Theoretically it just shouldn't be done.   
  
And the women who bear gaggles of children from their mighty loins? I applaud each and every   
one and maintain that all should be awarded medals of bravery. Cause hello, cold metal   
stirrups. Not to mention having some stranger stuck up there for however long it takes the   
said grapefruit to make its appearance.   
  
Its unnatural I say! Damn messy and unnatural!  
  
Anyway, back on topic... Kissing the Goblin King, not the wisest decision I've ever made.   
Ranks right up there with the green streaks I thought would look so good in my hair in college.   
  
Apparently Jareth's doesn't believe it's the brightest idea he's ever acted on either.   
  
"Hades, Zeus, and Hara."  
  
Oh, that's mighty interesting. The Goblin King, Lord of the Underground, curses with Greek   
gods. I guess 'Holy Buddha' or 'Oh my God' just isn't really fitting, and more to the point,   
somewhat blasphemous. Or maybe he just hasn't been around Aboveground since we've updated our   
religious system.   
  
Mighty Deities version 7.0.   
  
It's almost enough to make me smile, with the lips that were kissing Jareth.  
  
"You kissed me."  
  
He blinks, but doesn't deny it. "You kissed me back."  
  
I blink, but don't deny it. "It was a very nice kiss."  
  
He blinks and nods slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes, it was."  
  
I blink and nod in my own agreement, once again.  
  
We blink together a couple of times for good measure.  
  
"So, umm, we still hate each other right?"   
  
Jareth swallows visibly. "Of course, its what we do. Arch enemies and all that stuff."  
  
I swallow. "Of course."   
  
We heave a united sigh of relief.   
  
Jareth stands and starts to edge towards the door. "I mean, after all, I talked about you on   
national TV..."  
  
"And I defeated you in your own kingdom so long ago..."  
  
"So it's agreed. Nemesis once more?"   
  
Jareth pauses in the door frame, looking half panicked and something else... Something that   
makes me all warm and tingly. Only I'm not allowed to feel all warm and tingly when Jareth   
looks at me. Not allowed to want to still be kissing him.  
  
Bad Sarah, bad!  
  
"Agreed." Damn it, it'd be easier if my voice wasn't shaking quite so much.   
  
Jareth licks his lips. "Good," he gasps with once last desperate glance before throwing himself  
out of my dressing room.  
  
I have the greatest luck with men. I ignore the good ones, date the bad ones, and kiss the ones   
who command legions of darkness, my dreams, and hordes of smelly goblins.  
  
Yipee... 


	10. Thin Line...

AN: Hay guys, long time no update ne? LOL I can't believe I'm already at chapter ten... Let me   
know how you guys like it! ;) In other words, review... hehe Hope life has been good for   
ya'll. I'm sitting glued to the screen watching a VH1 special on the Goo Goo Dolls... I'm way   
too obsessed which is funny cause I don't go in for the whole groupie obsessed thing. But here   
I am, staring at the screen and absently mindedly typing... hehe Oh and want to hear something   
even more funny? I've developed this liking for NSYNC fanfiction... I don't even like their   
music so I don't know where the hell that came from. I need a job... I have too much time on my   
hands... =)  
  
Disclaimer: Alms for the poor... (I don't own em...)  
  
  
  
************************* Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Ten ***********************  
  
  
The latest pop song sensation flows over us as we dance on set. I'm stiff in Jareth's arms,   
unyielding, as I glide, chin up, to the catchy if cliché beat. Jareth holds me at a distance   
as well and his strange, hypnotic gaze is blessedly occupied elsewhere. I watch him watch the   
masses. Watch as his disdainful glare rests briefly on the fabulously dressed extras that swirl   
around us in glitter and masks. Watch as it roves over to the camera men and director and tech   
assistants who stand around the set.   
  
His finely gloved hands contract on mine as his gaze deigns to flicker to me. "I find this   
distasteful," he says softly, too low for the cameras to pick up. "This, this mockery."   
  
"Its called acting Jareth. Lies and illusions, I thought that would be right up your alley."   
  
He dips me suddenly, and I try not to let myself back down from the sudden anger in his sharply   
defined face as I wonder at the idiocy of this. I mean come on people... This whole fiasco is   
cruel enough as it is. Did the writers HAVE to include a ball? A bloody ball? I mean, haven't   
we all gotten our fill of sore toes and clammy hands?  
  
And glitter?! I'm going to be sneezing glitter out of my nose for a month after the movie   
wraps...  
  
"Lies, illusions and magic Sarah. There's a difference." With an indifferent yet graceful   
move he spins me languidly away from him and then back with enough snap so that our bodies are   
touching, chests, legs, arms wrapped in each other. He's warm even through the layers of silk   
and velvet.  
  
Hello Goblin King. Talk about up close and personal.   
  
Our eyes meet and the sudden moment between us is fiercely intense and frightening with its   
sudden flared need.  
  
Damn hormones to the Underground. I so did not just give Jareth my sexy look. Oh God, I   
did... I gave Jareth my patented come hither look. The one I practice in front of my bedroom   
mirror. The one that has a one hundred percent success rate so far.  
  
Jareth's curled smirk could warm an Eskimo.   
  
"You... you're too good for this place Jareth," I whisper as the song continues on, as our make   
believe charade continues. The cameras are still rolling and I'm aware of them peripherally.   
I know Jareth has forgotten them completely. "Why are you here? Go home, to the Underground.   
I'm perfectly able to make myself miserable." Oh boy is that an understatement! "You're better   
than a 'rising Hollywood star', better than 'Jared King'."  
  
Jareth leans forward to rest his brow against mine and I swear the entire world can hear my   
heartbeat at the exact second his warm forehead touches mine.   
  
Help, heart attack! Heart attack! I'm too young to die! I mean, I still hate him, of course,   
but come on people, he's the freaking Goblin King. Am I the only one who thinks he's better   
than this make believe crap? He's the special effects without computers... He's...   
  
"What about you?" he demands huskily.   
  
Oh not the husky voice. The husky voice gets me every time...   
  
"You're better than this place Sarah. You're better than Sarah Elliott."  
  
Oh boy, that was as smooth as melted butter.   
  
I raise dark brows. "Touché!"  
  
"Cut!"   
  
We both jump like we've been poked with a cattle prod. Moo... Being a cow must suck. And the   
grass stains... It boggles the mind. I have decided that cows are the most mistreated animals   
on earth. They have to deal with electrical shocks, cud, and being ground up into BigMacs while   
their skin becomes a spiffy new wallet for five bucks at WalMart. Who wants their legacy to be   
heart burn and a cheap Father's Day present?   
  
And I think I have it bad.   
  
I stare at Jareth as the set breaks up. He's still holding one of my hands in his and, stupid   
me, can't seem to find enough brains to mind. I tug on the gloved wonder and swallow under the   
weight of his intent stare.   
  
Think the Goblin King is scary mad? Try to imagine how terrifying he is when he's attracted to   
something, or someone, or me. I'm gonna pee my pants.   
  
"Go home Jareth. Go back and run your Kingdom. I'm not worth it. I'm sure I'll end up in a   
mental ward eventually anyway. I mean, I already had one complete nervous break down a few   
months ago. I bet I can qualify for a nice white jacket all by myself in no time at all. All   
I need to do is smack the wrong person in the head with a frying pan... Or attack David   
Letterman and I'll be guaranteed a one way ticket to failure."  
  
"Why are you still doing this Sarah? Why are you still acting if it tears you up inside? Why   
have you chosen this life?"   
  
Suddenly pissed, okay, not LITERALLY, but pissed, I snatch my hand away. "Because that's just   
it... Because I chose it. And no matter how stressed or freaked out I get I still... Some   
part of me will always love it. There's a thin line between love and hate right?" I smile   
weakly.   
  
Then the great big flashing double innuendo of that last line hits me and I groan. "I really   
did just say that didn't I?"   
  
Jareth's just standing there and I can tell he's trying his damnedest not to laugh at me. A   
little tiny smirk escapes though. "Love and hate huh Sarah?"  
  
Crap McNuggets... Man I need some McDonalds...   
  
"I... I have to go. Tony, we're done for the day right?" The ever patient Mr. Gray looks up   
from the papers he's studying across the set and waves an affirmative to me. I take the   
opportunity gracefully, turn tail, and run. My flounce is notably absent.   
  
***************************************************************************************  
  
I sigh with bliss as Robert's skilled hands work out the kinks in my neck and upper back. "I'm   
going to nominate you for Sainthood. Saint Robert..."   
  
Robert chuckles and pours on more warm oil. "Don't think that's an option Sarah since I'm not   
exactly Catholic."   
  
I shrug as well as I'm able to lying face down on the padded massage table. "It shouldn't   
matter if you're Buddhist because you, my friend, can perform miracles."  
  
"And is there any particular reasons for you to be needing my miracles Sarah? Anything   
especially troubling you?"   
  
I groan to myself. Phil may be my real psychiatrist but Robert's the one who helps me through   
most of my problems. Probably why I've been avoiding him for the last several weeks. I haven't   
actually been in the mood the talk about the whole Jareth issue.   
  
"For instance I saw a certain interview with a certain costar, though his information is   
slightly faulty... As your masseuse I happen to know for a fact that the mole on your back is   
on the left side..."   
  
"Robert..."  
  
"Shut up Sarah. I've also happened to see several speculating articles about you and Jared   
King accompanied with pictures that show emotions the opposite of total revulsion lately.   
Scoop me."  
  
Stupid intuition. Robert should have been born a woman.   
  
"How are Irene and Jasmine?" I ask hopefully, trying a last ditch effort to blatantly change   
the subject. Goooooooo subtlety!  
  
"Irene says hello and Jasmine wanted me to remind you that her birthday is in three weeks.   
She wants a pony but the new Barbie Princess Tea Party Set would be considered a suitable   
present replacement. Especially if you buy the matching Barbie Princess Tea Party Fairy   
Flutter Gown with detachable wings.  
  
"Now back to you. What's going on Sarah?"  
  
"Its complicated."   
  
Robert chuckles. "Its life. Stop stalling."   
  
I glower and reluctantly give in. "Okay," I murmur. "Its like this. A long time ago, we're   
talking like awkward angsty teenage years here... I said some really stupid things and had to   
make up for them. Anyway I met Jareth... Jared. He, he terrified me in that butterfly feeling   
in your stomach kind of way.   
  
"But I hated him also. I had to. I made up for all the stupid things I said with some really   
stupid actions that could have gotten me killed. I made it out okay though and put everything   
behind me.   
  
"And then Jared just appears in my life years, lifetimes, later. I'm a totally different   
person, you know? But I still hated him and he still hated me and he was determined to make   
my life miserable, pay back and crap like that. Some male Neanderthal mentality I guess.   
  
"Only the thing is... You know how much I love being who I am, and how much I can hate it too   
right? Well Jared saw how unhappy I already was and it was like a slap in the face. I didn't   
need him to hurt me. So its like now what?  
  
"And then the butterfly feeling returned for both of us. We're even sort of so all that's left   
is, well, the OTHER stuff. And that's like some freaky unexplored frontier."  
  
"And you're not sure you want to explore it are you?"  
  
"Exactly! Especially because the odds are good that I'm going to attract some incurable alien  
disease. And because... Its complicated."   
  
Robert's hands still for a moment as he thought. "Well, I can't give a whole lot of advice   
given the fact that you were about as vague as an IRS report but you don't get this worked up   
over nothing Sarah. There's something going on in that twisted little movie star heart of   
yours. I think its going to be up to you to figure out what it is though."   
  
"So, you think I may, you know, love him?"  
  
Robert patted one shoulder sympathetically. "You tell me."   
  
Oh yeah, and I'm vague... 


	11. First Date

AN: Muhahaha... After FOREVER and a day, here's chapter eleven. Thank you SO much to everyone   
who reviewed. I broke 200 reviews with only ten chapters, how freaking cool is that? I know   
this one is kinda short but I'm going out of town for about a week and hated to leave ya'll   
hanging since everyone has been so cool about me being a lazy butt and waiting over a month   
between updates. So leave me some reviews to read for when I get home. Luv ya'll! ;)  
  
Eh... I don't own Jareth, Sarah, or the voices in their heads. The voices in my head are all   
mine though... LOL  
  
*waves to everyone* BYE!  
  
  
*********************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Eleven *********************  
  
  
  
I, Sarah Williams, am a weak woman. But then, since my name is Sarah Elliott does that make me   
not weak? Or am I doubly weak because I'm two people? But then I'm not really two people...   
I just have two names.   
  
Dammit! Why does everything in my life have to be confusing? Now what was I saying again? Oh   
yeah, a simple declarative sentence.  
  
I am a weak woman.   
  
Weak and stupid, stupid, stupid!   
  
The movie's done. It was among one of the most painfully aware two months of my life. You   
know how people have near death experiences and then can spend hours talking about how   
everything's sharper and clearer, how they pay attention to details, blah, blah, blah?   
  
Well Jareth was my near death experience.   
  
Its like every time I'm near him my mind and body go into overdrive. So of course making an   
entire freaking movie with him involved no stress at all. 'Welcome to Sarcasm R' Us...   
There's a special today on smart asses, aisle three.'   
  
It was, just weird. It still is. I mean its JARETH! Creepy super villain man of my dreams   
Goblin King. And I'm wigged out because I shouldn't be noticing certain things about him...   
Like how the blue in his one eye is exactly three shades lighter than the green in the other.   
And how he wipes his mouth with a napkin every time he takes a sip of coffee. And that he   
carries handkerchiefs instead of tissues. And has a watch on a chain. And that when he smiles   
there's the smallest gap between two teeth...  
  
We agreed, right, arch nemesis forever. We did everything but shake pinkies on it. Of course   
I don't really think Jareth's much of the pinky swear type of guy but it gets me through my   
days.  
  
But he just gets to me. He's not even trying to destroy my life anymore, isn't that sweet?   
He's just there. Always watching me with that damn smirk. Always ready to talk. Always   
THERE. Always, in some shape of form, in my life.   
  
Hell, maybe fate, destiny and chance aren't bullies. Maybe they just have some sick twisted   
sense of humor cause really, how bizarre would it be if I did love Jareth? If we were meant to   
be together? If, if he is the man of my dreams?   
  
I hate my life.   
  
So, back to me being weak. The movie is done, edited, hyped and ready, and guess who Sarah   
Williams, Elliott, whatever, is going to the premiere with? Yeah, enter my stupidity.   
  
I'm going with Jareth, Jared, whatever the hell he calls himself up here. I'm going on a date   
with the Goblin King. I just can't wrap my pitiful little mind around that concept. And get   
this, he ASKED! What the hell is he thinking? We can't go on a date!   
  
What the hell am I thinking? I said yes!   
  
But the most important question is...  
  
What the hell do I wear on my first date with the Goblin King?   
  
*********************************************************************************  
  
I decide strapless would be best. And sleeveless. And backless. Actually, there isn't a   
whole lot of dress period but what is there covers all the strategic places and is a lovely   
red that makes me look older, more mature.   
  
I'm pathetic, aren't I? I just keep getting this mental image of me the last time I got to   
dress pretty in front of Jareth, for Jareth. Me in that Cinderella ball gown with those huge   
sleeves, all poofy and white and covered with glitter. Gah! I was a child! I mean yeah, I   
dressed pretty for the whole movie but that was different.   
  
That was make believe and what Jareth and I have, no matter how based on illusion it is, is to   
some certain extent, real. Or so I've deluded myself into thinking.  
  
So, instead of going for the 'princess' look I've gone more for the well, how to delicately put   
this, sex kitten.  
  
Yes, I definitely am going for sex kitten. Meow.   
  
The doorbell to my apartment rings and I steel myself to answer it. Princess, the poodle not   
my younger self, yaps at my heels and I scold her before grabbing my purse and opening the   
door.  
  
I except a chauffeur or bodyguard or something, someone, a lackey of some sort. I'm not   
expecting to find Jared King, rising movie star, ahem, Jareth the Goblin King standing there   
with a dozen red roses in his hands and a shy smile on his face looking incredibly edible in a   
black suite with a dark red silk shirt on under his sleek, well fitted jacket.  
  
Crap, we match. We freaking match. Mr. and Mrs. Goblin King. How adorable.   
  
"We match!"   
  
I raise my dark brows heavenward and sigh. Men. "Thank you Captain Obvious. I hadn't   
noticed..."   
  
Jareth blushes and I stare in morbid fascination. Jareth doesn't blush. He just can't. I   
mean, this is the man who wears tights that leave nothing, absolutely nothing, to the   
imagination. Nothing. But he's still standing here, red as a tomato, the devil incarnate.   
What does that say about me?   
  
Maybe that I've grown up more than I've thought.   
  
Suddenly feeling very powerful and yes, sexy, I extend an arm. "Ready to go?" I all but purr.   
His eyes widen before he recovers. His gaze rakes over my outfit, slowly, and sheer   
stubbornness alone ensures that its not me blushing. A pleased smirk spreads across his lips   
and I shiver a bit.  
  
Stupid hormones.   
  
"I'm always ready..." Jareth whispers.   
  
Stupid husky voice.   
  
So I do the only thing I can think of. I take tuck the roses under one arm, and his warm,   
gloved hands under the other. Cause duh... Goblin King and roses. Who can turn that down?  
  
Who am I kidding?  
  
I am so screwed. 


	12. Boxers, Briefs, Or...

AN: Getting some ACTION on in this chapter, LOL... Anyway, a huge, huge thank you to   
EVERYONE who has reviewed and emailed. Every word of encouragement, or critique, means SO   
much to me!  
  
~Lian Leviathan: a friendly reminder to check for arm rests before reading on...  
~Ivy Adrena: I'd definitely buy a Jareth plushie! :)  
~Hooded Crow: I did tell you that Heroes is totally rocking my world right?  
~Emerald Lady Destiny: thankies for being so "twisted" and letting me use "you" as part of   
the evil trio  
~Gwenevire: yes, I like cake very much thank you, LOL  
~Liz: *whispers* I never liked the ball room dress much either  
  
*waves to everyone else* Sometimes I'm weird but you guys probably know that by now   
huh? How sad. :)   
  
Me NO ownie! No ownie!  
  
PS: Its another shortie but look, long author notes, that counts for something right?   
Honestly, it just seemed like a good stopping place. Don't be TOO mad. =)  
  
  
  
  
********************* Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Twelve ********************  
  
  
  
  
  
Okay, both Jareth and I have explosive personalities. And now with these sparks between   
us...  
  
Well, that's the only lame excuse I can come up for the reason of why I'm straddling his lap   
sucking his face in the back of the limo. I mean, there's this little rational part of my   
mind that's telling me I should bitch slap him and his little arrogant smirk but the majority   
of my common sense is numb from the fact that his tongue has just slipped into my mouth.  
  
Oh. My. God, Buddha, whatever.  
  
The Goblin King's tongue is in my mouth. And oh what a nice tongue it is.   
  
Woah, hello Mr. Gloved Hand on my thigh. Its nice to meet you too.   
  
We'll not speak of the fact that I moan and bury my hands through his thick silken hair at   
this point. Nope, there will be no embarrassing talk of that.   
  
"We," kiss, "still," kiss, "hate," kiss, "each," kiss, "other," kiss, "right?" Jareth pants   
between breathless gropes.   
  
I break away long enough to suck in a mouthful of air. "Of course," I manage to answer   
before my lips are taken captive once again. We have a hostage situation! A very HAPPY   
hostage situation but, never mind...  
  
"Good," he murmurs, breath warm and all mingly with mine. Man, I'm making up words again.   
Mingly. Tingly. Jareth is making me feel tingly. I know I NEVER wished for that. Not   
that I'm complaining right at this moment. Cause I'm thinking all tingly is a good look   
for me. Sex kitten too. Its getting good results. Great results. Goblin King's tongue   
in my mouth results.  
  
I denied this man how? I was a very stupid child. Very stupid.  
  
I love hormones.  
  
And before we can answer the universal question of 'what does the Goblin King wear for   
underwear' the limo grinds to a halt outside the premier. "We should probably head out since   
everyone is most likely waiting for us and all..." I whisper hoarsely.   
  
Jareth smirks and no, we are not going to speak of how much that manages to turn me on. I   
think I really need to get laid. A little bit of heavy petting should NOT be affecting me   
this much. "Only if we get to do this on the way home..."  
  
I bite my bottom lip and watch, fascinated, as Jareth hungrily stares at my teeth and full   
lower lip. My hands bravely trace a path up from his waist to his shoulder blades where they   
rest.  
  
Oh, NICE shoulders. Nice broad and muscled shoulders. Jareth wears long sleeves why? This   
man should be walking around in muscle shirts, screw the whole 'ruler of the Underground'   
mystique. I tilt my head down until we're brow to brow, staring in each other's eyes.  
  
"Only if you're good."   
  
Its my turn to watch in fascination as his strange, hypnotizing gave darkens and fills with   
that familiar blend of amusement and danger. His hands rest comfortably on my hips. "What,"   
he asks huskily, "if I'm very, very bad?"   
  
Woah.   
  
I swallow convulsively. Hello, I'm a Jareth addict. Not only did I wish my little brother   
away to him, I also let him feel me up in the back of a limousine and am thinking about   
letting him do it again.   
  
Then this silly streak of bravery I seem to have raises its head and digs me in a proverbial   
hole. "Then I think I might have to count that as very, very good."   
  
I'm in WAY over my head. Can we say playing with fire? Aren't you supposed to be MORE   
cautious after being burned with fire once? I'm about to throw myself in the damn volcano as   
an offering to the mighty fire gods.   
  
Anyway, after THAT little sexual innuendo, I slide reluctantly off his lap and we manage to   
make ourselves somewhat presentable and less, well, pawed. The reporters are gonna have a   
field day with us coming together. We don't need to add fuel to the fires. Ouch... fire...   
I wince.  
  
The door opens and we're blinded by a barrage of a hundred flashing lights and cameras and   
microphones all shoved in our general direction. The tingly feeling only intensifies as   
Jareth steps out onto the red carpet behind me and takes my hand tightly with his.  
  
I glance back, surprised and a little apprehensive, and he smirks, that toe curling smirk that   
could make grandmothers faint in appreciation. All righty then, apparently we are fueling the   
gossip mills.   
  
Hell, why not. I'm already officially crazy, might as well add shacking up my costar to the   
list. We slowly make our way down the gauntlet, answering questions vaguely and posing for a   
million pictures.   
  
Its funny, normally this is the kind of stuff that I love most about acting. About doing   
what I do. It's the movies and the premieres and signing autographs that makes having a   
hellish, screwed up life worthwhile. But lately its just not enough.   
  
Ever since Jareth's showed up in all his obnoxious glory I've started to remember the girl I   
use to be, Sarah Williams, not Sarah Elliott. I remember playing make believe and thinking,   
believing that the world held so much magic and potential. I'm not sure how happy I am   
with the woman I've become.   
  
I like that I'm independent and wealthy and successful but I hate feeling so jaded, so broken.   
I hate that I don't feel like I have anyone who loves me for me except for a married and very   
taken masseuse and my toy poodle Princess. And my frying pan.  
  
My frying pan loves me.  
  
And then my twisted little mind starts toying with the fact that Jareth DOES know the real   
me, and the old me, and that he seems mighty interested in any present and future versions   
of me and...  
  
And the red carpet doesn't seem so grand anymore and all the gold and glitz of Hollywood is   
just cheap and gaudy. And I don't really care if I slip up on an interview question or   
that my latest movie is about to premiere.   
  
All I seem to manage to concentrate on is the fact that Jareth's gloved hand is holding my   
protectively and that as soon as we make it back in the damn car I'm going to have the make   
out session of my life.   
  
And answer some very important questions like: what DOES the King of the Underground wear   
for underwear? I mean really, who else has wondered, boxers, briefs, or commando? I mean,   
with those tights there's not a WHOLE lot left to the imagination... 


	13. Home

AN: And so I end it on lucky number thirteen. LOL That's right, the ride ends here. I   
didn't see it coming either but here we are. I tried to tie up all my loose ends and I   
think I did okay. And while I have you all captive here I'd like to give out a HUGE shout   
of thanks to everyone who has encouraged me and left reviews and emails, whatever. It all   
means the world to me. And boy, you guys sure got worked up over chapter twelve! Geesh! hehe  
  
Of course now is also the wonderful time where all the lurkers and shadows are required to   
come out of the wood work and review my final chapter. I know ya'll are out there.   
  
And thus ends my second long Labyrinth story. Who knew I had it in me? I'm awful about   
finishing things. =) Its been fun peeps. Stay cool, stay happy, peace, love, and Goblin   
Kings. I'll be back eventually. Ya'll know I can't stay away.   
  
*big hugs*  
  
Standard disclaimers apply.   
  
  
  
******************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Thirteen *******************  
  
  
The premiere and after part are wonderful and lavish and gaudy and everything I've come to   
expect from Hollywood. For the first time its odd to see myself on screen. Maybe   
because its with Jareth. Maybe because its a story with a plot so very similar to   
our own twisted past. There's so many threads and ties between me and the Goblin King. I   
can't even remember a time when the Labyrinth wasn't a part of my life.  
  
Pathetic huh?   
  
Everyone adored the movie though. Critics applauded and the audience gushed. Mike, my   
manager, was beaming like a new father and Mr. Gray humbly shook his head when people   
complimented him.   
  
But that stupid unfulfilled sensation just wouldn't leave me alone. I've never felt so   
empty and numb to my success before and I know it Jareth's fault... And mine.   
  
Because I finally found something that mattered more than me and my job. I found a Goblin   
King.   
  
Anyone else disgusted by my predictability?  
  
And before I know it we're back in the limo, staring quietly at each other, both flush from   
the fine wines we've sampled and the approval of tinsel town. I swallow as Jareth stares   
at me, intently, serious for once. I shiver as he reaches up and strokes my cheeks with   
gloved hands. I can feel his warmth through the thin fabric, and his tenderness.   
  
"You're so damn beautiful..." he whispers, half wonderingly, half surprised at his own   
revelation. I close my eyes and sink into his embrace with a contented sigh and damn me,   
damn him, and damn that metaphorical hole in my breast that's gone and replaced by...  
  
Shit.   
  
I AM in love with the Goblin King.   
  
"How can you worm your way into my heart Sarah? I've tried everything to deny you but..."  
  
I open my eyes and smile up at him. "It's a thin line between love and hate right?"   
  
His eyes flare with need and that familiar and delicious darkness. He leans forward, lips   
near my ear. "Do you want to go home?"   
  
My breath catches in my throat as I pull back in surprise and stare hugely at him. He stares   
back, not intimidated by my surprise, unmoved. And yet, hopeful, waiting.   
  
A small smile curls my lips as I study him for a long moment. As my eyes trace the regal   
planes of his face and his proud, proud profile.   
  
"Home?" I ask, voice trembling.   
  
Jareth grins in response. "Home."   
  
I stare for another long minute before laughing and half crying. Its like this invisible   
weight has been lifted and suddenly I'm free. Free to live, to love, whoever I want.   
Wherever I want.   
  
Eyes shining I answer softly, firmly, "Yes."   
  
************************************************************************************  
  
The limo pulls into an alley, parks, and sits, as previously instructed by a certain Jared   
King. The driver waits exactly five minutes before getting out, a suit case of five million   
dollars in hand. He walks away without a second glance, content to ignore the eccentricies   
of the rich and famous.   
  
The car is discovered three days later when an intensive search is started for the two   
missing movie stars. Authorities are confused to find an empty condo at Jared King's address.   
There isn't a single fingerprint.   
  
Sarah Elliott's apartment is missing nothing except for a toy poodle named Princess and a   
much beloved frying pan.   
  
*************************************************************************************  
  
The Labyrinth broke every record in the book opening weekend, its popularity fueled by the   
mysterious disappearance of its two stars. Cliched Films is now a major player in Hollywood   
that specializes in fantasy films.   
  
Jasmine received a Barbie Princess Tea Party set and a Barbie Princess Tea Party Fairy Flutter   
Gown with detachable wings for her birthday. Robert and Irene and their daughter lived   
happily ever after on all the money Sarah had paid Robert, content with the certain if   
unverified knowledge that their dear friend was happy, wherever she was.  
  
Dr. Phil wrote three best selling books and biographies on Sarah Elliott's psyche. He lives   
comfortably now.   
  
Mike, Sarah Elliott's agent, received an anonymous home video tape of a certain Jasmine   
singing at the top of her very talented lungs. She has starred in three movies by the age of   
twelve and is shaping up to be a bigger star than Shirley Temple, minus the curls.   
  
Lance's career took a nose dive after Sarah's disappearance. He now works in low budget porn   
films.   
  
Tony Gray went on to direct dozens of other note worthy films. When asked about the mystery   
of Sarah Elliott and Jared King he usually shrugs and smiles with a knowing, half apologetic   
grin. He saw it coming months before THEY did.   
  
So I guess in the end Jared King really did destroy Sarah Elliott. But Jareth, Goblin King,   
fell in love with Sarah Williams. All's well that ends well I guess. So I went home. Went   
to the Underground, the Labyrinth. Jareth and I have our Gothic castle and black picketed   
fence and, well there's no pointy toothed brats yet but we're still young, and kinda immortal,   
but that's a hole other can of worms.   
  
Maybe someday.   
  
Princess and my frying pan are both settling in comfortably in their new surroundings.   
  
I was slowly going insane for months and well, I guess I'm officially crazy now. Only an   
unbalanced woman would give up the glitter of Hollywood for ruling a bunch of unruly goblins   
and a certain King's love.  
  
Or a ridiculously romantic one.   
  
Fate, chance, and destiny kinda knew what they were doing, in the end. Who would have   
guessed it?   
  
As for the answer to the oh so vital question of boxers, briefs or... Well, let's just say   
that that's an answer every hot blooded female should find out for herself. Besides, I'd   
hate to take all the fun out of guessing.  
  
We can't have that! Yup, a final dose of sarcasm before I wrap this up. Get it, wrap,   
movie term. Smack me. Bad pun. Okay, okay I'm done now.   
  
Really.   
  
  
************ Lights, camera, action, and happily ever after. The end. ************* 


End file.
